Prejudice
by ThorneofAcre
Summary: A short tag to 3.03. A look at all that has been going on in Nick's mind lately, including what the captain said.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hi guys. I'm back to Grimm after a LONG break. This is the first thing I have written in almost a year, so go easy on me, I'm a little rusty. The new grimm season has really stepped up and I'm loving it so far. This is a short two part tag to 3.03. I couldn't get that scene between Nick and Renard in the latter's office out of my head (Not one of my favorite scenes, I must admit) and I thought that Sean was quite a douche bag in it. So here goes nothing: _Disclaimer: I don't own Grimm. If I did, the enormous desk in Renard's office would be put to better use...

* * *

Nick rubbed his eyes tiredly, sinking back in his chair. The precinct was quiet and most of the lights were off. After a day of officers bustling around, interviewing people and writing down reports, it was weird to see it so empty and devoid of activity. Still Nick had had work to finish and he had stayed back. He had just gotten over writing the report of the latest case. Fabricating it, would be more apt. There really had been no way he could have explained how he had figured out that the reputed Chef Ostler from The Raven and Rose had been harboring a vendetta which predated centuries, against a species of these not quite humans called Blutbaden, because he himself belonged to another species called Bauerschwein, and the two just didn't get along very well. That was a foolproof way of asking for a one way ticket to a white washed padded cell, and Nick didn't really have a thing for straitjackets.

Bondage had never been his thing.

So he had labored over every detail before writing it down, making sure the lies he had made up did not contradict each other and the line of investigation he had invented did not leave any loop holes which a lawyer could exploit to get Ostler out of prison. It was exhausting work but he was quite used to it now. He actually had the advantage of Hank knowing about all the messed up crap that his life consisted of. He would read through Nick's latest piece of fiction in the morning and make sure nothing seemed too implausible.

Besides he was thankful for the diversion. It kept him occupied, tired out his mind enough that it didn't get time to think.

A pop up appeared on his desktop and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk. It was a reminder to check in with the doctor. Nick sighed. Another conversation that would be laced with half-truths and subtle cover ups. He had half a mind to ignore that particular calendar entry. What was the point? It wasn't like as if some doctor in a lab coat could tell him why his girlfriend believed that he had a knack for dying temporarily every now and then.

Then there were the other things. He didn't know if they were residual effects of being turned into a raving zombie or just some abnormal evolution of his senses because of his Grimm heritage, but he was sure that he was getting slightly paranoid. He was a lot more alert all the time, more tuned in and aware of his surroundings than ever. And it wasn't the normal Sherlock brand of awareness, last night while taking down the rogue chef, he had known instinctively, despite it being dark, how many blutbaden were there on the scene, and where each was positioned. His mind had even automatically figured out a plan of defense if any of them lost their temper and actually attacked. This in itself wasn't a bad thing, but it scared him to not know why these changes were happening, and if they had to do with that night, then what else had changed as well.

Nick was beginning to feel like he was swimming upstream with every breathe and his double life as a cop and as a Grimm, all the lies he told on a daily basis, the things happening to his own body that he couldn't explain, all these things were boulders tied to his feet weighing him down.

Then there was the guilt. The guilt which threatened to suffocate him and drown him. He wasn't sure he would be able to come back if he allowed his mind to go there.

One night. Just a few hours actually, and they had changed his life. Made him a deranged lunatic, someone who would force their way into a family's home and attack innocent people, children. Someone capable of murder. A killer.

''_What's really bothering you, the fact that you killed somebody, or the fact that you killed somebody who wasn't Wesen?"_

Nick shook his head, the question ringing in his ears. They didn't understand, none of them did.

Monroe and Hank were both great friends. Friends who would stand by him, protect him and lie for him. But they didn't understand. And he couldn't make them. He couldn't admit that he was bothered by something, knowing that they were the ones who had stuck out their neck for him and lied to the cops about it. He didn't have the right. Not after the way he had treated the two of them. He knew they didn't have any hard feelings, but that didn't help with the shame that came with the knowledge of what he had done.

Then there was Juliet.

She was amazing, coping with his world, helping out with his problems, and she had enough on her plate worrying about him. He hadn't even tried talking to Juliet. He didn't want to tell her that he remembered everything about that night. He told himself that it was because he didn't want to trouble her any further, but deep down he knew that wasn't true. He didn't know if he would be able to face the look of horror and disgust she would give him if he told her.

He remembered. He didn't just remember going off on a rampage, he remembered the rage, the uncontrollable fury he had felt, how he had lashed out, how he had hit her, how given the chance he would have killed her, killed all of them. He had wanted to, he had wanted to strangle her, feel the life go out of her, feel her body go limp. Such had been the extent of his anger.

It made him sick to think about it, but God knew he had wanted to. He remembered the rush of power pumping through his veins and knowing all that he had done, he was scared of how much further he would have gone, if he hadn't been stopped. The man with the knife would have killed him, yes he was aware of that. But that did not make what he did right. He was a policeman, dammit, trained to handle such situations. But in those few hours it had felt like all his training, his control, his restraints had fell off and he had become an unleashed wild… thing. Knowing what he was capable of, _terrified_ him.

He didn't know who, _what_ he was anymore.

The one person who he had thought would understand was the captain. He had thought that Renard had known and seen enough of their world to neither be disgusted nor afraid of what Nick had wanted to tell him. Nick had thought that with his knowledge of the wesen world, the captain would understand what had happened and offer him reassurances. Nick had once relied on his captain to guide him through the initial months of his being a detective, and he had hoped that knowing everything about him now, Renard would once again have the answers to the million things that were going wrong with Nick's life, scaring him. He had sought the comfort of his boss having his back when he had entered his office.

He had been wrong.

''_What's really bothering you, the fact that you killed somebody, or the fact that you killed somebody who wasn't Wesen?"_

The question, heavy with the age old prejudice against his kind, dripping with ignorance about his struggle to remain fair in his duties as a Grimm and laced with scorn had been like a slap on his face. He had been unable to form words, such had been his shock. He hadn't offered an answer, just stared astounded at the desk, as his captain had walked out the door, stopping only for a last condescending remark.

Thinking back he didn't know why he had expected anything better. Sean Renard was after all a wesen, and they had a habit of forming opinions and passing judgment on Nick without knowing him.

Still, his captain _did_ know him. Even if Nick hadn't been aware of everything about him, Renard had known he was a Grimm since day one, known that he was different. That was why such feigned ignorance coming from his captain had hurt.

Nick was through showing the wesen world that he was different. He had never let anyone's opinion of him affect him and he wasn't about to start now. He had always been a fair person, an upholder of the law before all else. Even when the law did not provide an answer, Nick always tried solving the problem with as little bloodshed as possible. A lot of the wesen community in Portland were now aware of that. But there were still those who would remain blinded by the age old hatred of the Grimms. If despite knowing everything, and witnessing how he balanced the two sides of his life first hand, Renard had chosen to be one of those people, Nick could do nothing about that.

He was done proving himself. He was _done_.

* * *

**So like I said, this is a two parter. The next part would be Renard and Nick having a much needed conversation. Thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry this took so long, it was supposed to go up three days ago but I didn't have the internet... Anyhow, I got the chance to tweak it a little after watching the latest episode. The latest Grimm episode in which might I add, they ignored the conversation between Renard and Nick that this is based on. I swear, sometimes, I do wonder why the writers keep throwing all these opportunities to show some good old fashioned angst. It's starting to get annoying.

* * *

"Nick, a word?"

Nick had been about to sit down at his desk in the precinct, but stood back up. Renard was standing at the door of his office and he went inside as soon as Nick acknowledged him.

So the captain wanted to talk to him on his turf, Nick mentally prepared himself for more snide comments and condescending statements regarding his lineage and heritage. Really, sometimes he missed the good old days when a call to the captain's office used to make him nervously wonder where he had screwed up.

Renard sat at his desk indicating the grimm who had arrived at his door to have a seat. He had to remind himself to not let the concern he felt at the detective's appearance show on his face. Nick's pale skin contrasted heavily with the dark circles under his eyes and there was a tired air around him, which was completely uncharacteristic for the usually energetic man. Then there was the look.

Renard recognized the haunted, wary look clouding Nick's eyes all too well. It was the look of a man who was afraid to let his guard down, who did not have anyone to cover his back and who had gotten used to living a lie. Renard had seen it enough times in the mirror.

This guilt and burden that Nick was shouldering, it had to end.

"So what is this about?" The annoyed edge in his subordinate's voice did not go unnoticed by Renard.

"I was reading through the report you wrote on the Ostler case." He started leaning back in his chair.

A defiant eyebrow rose up. "Yeah, and?"

"And it was fine. Very thoroughly done." Renard smiled. "Actually on the whole, the way you handled the case was impressive. You found a way to stop a man who was murdering in cold blood without resorting to any actual violence."

Nick couldn't stop the flare of anger in him at the comment. "Yeah, I bet that must have been disappointing to you, considering how you seem to be convinced that _I_ am the murderer who kills in cold blood."

Renard leaned forward and looked Nick in the eye. "I never said that you are a murderer."

Nick scoffed. "Yeah, not in so many words. But you might as well have."

"Nick, I…" Renard needed to explain, this was getting ridiculous.

"No you know what?" Nick cut him off, standing up. "I don't want to hear it. First you insinuate that I discriminate between Wesen and human in the way I do things, an accusation which had you taken five minutes to actually look through the cases I've worked on which involved Wesen, you would have realized was baseless; and now you're saying that you're impressed with my course of action? You know what, you can think whatever you want, and you're entitled to your opinions, but do both of us a favour and keep them to yourself."

"Detective Burkhardt, sit down."

It must have been the no nonsense tone or the look on the captain's face, because Nick found himself obeying automatically and sitting down.

"I never said that you are a murderer. I've known of you being a grimm even before you knew it yourself and I've been following the way you deal with wesen related problems since day one. I know you to be a just policeman who tries to resolve conflicts and solve cases within the bounds of the law. I _know_ that the only case you would kill someone is in self-defense." Renard paused, watching the anger turn into confusion.

"Then what was all that about me having killed plenty of wesen and feeling guilty only for killing a human?" Nick had honestly no idea what point lay behind the captain's words. He was conflicting himself, and that was not something he did very often.

"I only said that to provoke you into defending yourself by saying that you have never killed needlessly. That in turn would have made my case that you kill in self-defense only, and the man at the bar?" Renard waited for Nick to look at him. "That _was_ self-defense."

"That is not the point. I instigated the fight, he reacted and then I killed him." Nick shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He got what his captain was trying to tell him, but hearing it from him hadn't lessened the pain any. "No, you don't understand. You don't know what it was like, all that anger… you didn't see what I did…"

"I saw the surveillance tape," Renard reminded him. "I _do_ understand…"

"Then how can you say that it was self-defense!" Nick interrupted, his voice breaking. The look of utter desperation on his face convincing the captain even further that this had to be dealt with quickly. He got up from his chair and walked around the desk, coming at a pause right besides Nick chair. He leaned against the edge of his desk and waited for the detective to look at him.

"That guilt you are feeling? It's not about killing a man, not all of it. It's not even all guilt." Renard paused making sure that Nick was following. "You are scared."

He raised a hand, sensing that Nick was about to interrupt. "You are scared that you lost control. And you are scared that it will happen again and you don't know what you will do then."

"How…?" Nick trailed off, speechless. Renard had hit the proverbial needle right on the head.

"It takes one to know one. Losing control is what I worry about all the time. I've had to make decisions, order the deaths of people, even kill some myself. I don't like it. I fear that one day I would become like my brother, thriving in the suffering of others, killing for the sick pleasure and sense of power it gives. But just because I don't like it doesn't mean I won't do it. If there is a threat to those under my protection from anyone then I would deal with."

"How do you do it?" Nick's voice was barely above a whisper. "How do you stop it from eating at you?"

Renard met Nick's eyes, his intense gaze pinning the detective down and looking right through him.

"I focus on what matters. I don't go down that road. You have to walk the line between guilt and indifference, Nick, but don't ever fall on one side. The moment you do, either you will lose what makes you _you_, or you will end up losing your mind."

Nick was stunned. Gone was the cold and calculating man who had been manipulating him for a year. He looked at the captain now, seeing the same man who used to have all the answers once, the man whom he used to turn to back when he was a fresh policeman. Every part of him suddenly wanted to revert back to his younger self and place his complete trust in this man. He wanted someone he could talk to, someone who would understand and not think of him as a freak or a monster. He was falling, he knew that. He wanted someone to be there to catch him before it was too late.

"I… I don't know what to do," he admitted, broken.

Renard watched the man's expression as the last defensive wall he must have created in his mind broke down and he realized he was no longer talking to the grimm of Portland, renowned for his swift yet just decisions. He was looking at just a young man who had no one to turn to for answers to questions he didn't even fully comprehend. He was looking at, and finally _seeing_, Nick.

"Hey, hey… it's okay." Renard leaned forward grasping the younger man's shoulder. Renard wasn't one for meaningless platitudes and false reassurances usually, but some gut instinct told him that Nick needed all the comfort he could get right now. "What is it?"

"You're right. I am scared. And it's not just about losing control." Nick searched Sean's eyes, hoping he would understand. "I don't know what is happening to me. There's something wrong, I can feel it. I've changed… Ever since that night. I… I don't even think I'm human anymore." Nick looked away, ashamed.

"Nick." Renard leaned down until he was level with the detective and waited for him to look at him. "What are you talking about exactly?"

Nick shook his head, frustrated. "That is it, sir. I don't know!"

"Okay, calm down detective," Renard said in his policeman voice. "Tell me what you _do_ know. What changes have you experienced?"

"Okay. My senses have become a lot sharper, I can hear things, and there is this feeling I get before something bad is about to happen, it's like a gut thing, but more intense, more defined… Sometimes I zone out when I am tired and a few days ago, Juliet almost called 911 because she woke up to find me sleeping with no pulse and she said that I looked… dead." Nick's breathe had caught on the last word and he was panting by the time he was done.

"Is that all?" Renard asked.

Nick blinked and then scoffed. "Is that all? Isn't it enough? I am telling you I _die_ periodically and you ask if that's it?"

"Detective, again I would advise you to calm down," Renard cautioned the grimm who was looking at him incredulously. "What I meant was that is there any other change that you have noticed?" he clarified.

"Oh," Nick whispered, sinking back in his chair. "No, no I think that's about it."

"Then you don't have anything to worry about." Renard smiled. Nick raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Well, all that you have just described is your body adapting to your job." Renard explained. "You are a Grimm, Nick. Don't roll your eyes, I'm not done." Renard smirked at the chastened look on his detective's face. "There are certain… abilities that run through your bloodline, abilities that you have already begun to develop. You would be able to sense danger, have a lot more focus and basically all your senses would be twice as sharp as a normal man's. That's perfectly alright for a grimm."

"… And the dying part?" Nick asked, the captain's words sinking in, easing a large weight that he wasn't even aware he was carrying.

"Yes, the _dying_, as you put it." Renard nodded. "Also expected. Grimms live longer than normal humans, they have to until there is someone who can carry the bloodline. So their bodies adapt. They have half the metabolism rate of a human, and when they sleep they go into a temporary coma to minimize brain activity."

"So you're saying I'm not normal, but… that's normal?" Nick asked, still a little confused.

"Nobody's normal, Nick. This is Portland." Renard straightened back up, satisfied that his point had gotten across.

"You got that one right. After all we have a half royal crown prince for a police captain," Neal replied, smirking.

"Crown prince? Let's not jump to conclusions here." Renard said, smiling.

"Thank you for that, by the way," Nick said quietly, suddenly serious.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, detective," Renard said, his voice suddenly hard. Nick met his eyes, surprised at the change in tone.

"I didn't mean to…" he started but was cut off with a raised hand.

"But you can rest assured," Renard added and smiled, "any royal would think long and hard before causing trouble in Portland again."

"Understood, sir." Nick nodded and stood up to leave. "Also one more thing."

Renard raised a brow and shot the detective a questioning look.

"Next time, can you just say what you mean rather than what you think would get the desired reaction from me?" Nick asked, smiling to let the captain know that he wasn't actually upset at the latest manipulation. He wasn't sure himself if a direct approach on Renard's part would have had the same effect, but it was better that the captain knew that he realized what he had been trying.

Renard grinned. "Can't promise that, detective. After all a lifetime of grooming and training to handle situations diplomatically cannot just be ignored." Nick raised both eyebrows. "But I will do my best to be straightforward," Renard continued hastil0y, causing Nick to grin as well.

Nick was almost to the door when Renard called out. "Detective?"

Nick turned back, his hand at the door. Captain Sean Renard was back in his chair, behind his desk, looking no less regal or intimidating as a prince. Then he smiled.

"You know I've got your back, right?"

"Yes sir," Nick replied, knowing in his heart that he believed it to be true. "I know."

* * *

**So that's done. What do you think?**


End file.
